Enough
by bitten
Summary: WIP - post hogwarts hd, the whole shebang from beginning to end, a tale of two lovers.


Enough  
  
By regret  
  
Does it ever get lonely  
  
Standing on the outside staring in  
  
On all you wish you couldn't have?  
  
"Lurking again, Draco?" I've startled him, though I didn't mean to. Hell, I made enough noise dragging out the garbage. And it's not entirely uncommon to find him sitting in his backyard on the nights I've company, though he never accepts my invitations.  
  
"Hardly," his tone is as dry as it ever was, but his face is no longer quite the impassive mask of old.  
  
"You know you're more than welcome to join us." Why do I find myself still optimistic, still holding my breath, hoping he'll say yes?  
  
"That I doubt," he says softly as his eyes dart to the window, pausing on Hermione and Ron.  
  
"We're not in school anymore Draco. We've all grown up."  
  
He laughs then, but it's a hard, cold sound that makes me want to reach out and touch him. Warm him. Put a finger to his lips and silence the bitterness.  
  
"Things don't change that much, *Potter*."  
  
Sighing, "You'd be surprised Draco, you'd be surprised."  
  
I turn back to the house, defeated once again, only to catch him say, "Maybe some other time."  
  
I nod so that he knows I heard him, so he knows he's bound, but I don't say anything. Sometimes words are not enough.  
  
*****  
  
I linger in the kitchen, not wishing to face the ridicule I know is coming. Not in the aftermath of such a shift.  
  
No matter how small it may have seemed.  
  
They don't understand.  
  
"Harry, honestly, I don't know why you bother with him. You've lived next door to each other for two. Years. Now, and never once has he taken you up on your generosity!" Hermione exclaims as I step back into the living room, hands poised on her hips.  
  
She looks almost childlike standing there, hair still wild and eyes bird- bright.  
  
"It's *not* generosity 'Mione. He has no need for that." I try and keep my tone light, but I know my eyes are hard and unforgiving.  
  
Huffing, "Then what are you offering?"  
  
Friendship.  
  
Companionship.  
  
"Nothing."  
  
Her eyebrows shoot up, an arch look on her face, "Nothing, eh?"  
  
"Exactly," I sigh, sitting on the couch next to Ron, rubbing at my eyes. "I don't have anything to give that he needs, 'Mione. Did you ever think, maybe, that there's something *I* want from *him*?"  
  
The look on her face is worth the admittance, even if only on a superficial level.  
  
It isn't everyday Hermione Granger is utterly dumbfounded.  
  
Ron, however, is still conspicuously silent.  
  
Before I can ask him what he's thinking Hermione sputters, "What could you possibly want from MALFOY?!"  
  
"Draco," I answer, only to realize how true that is.  
  
"What?" She's utterly confused, tweed-brown brows drawn tight.  
  
"His. Name. Is. *Draco*. Not 'Malfoy', we're not in school anymore Hermione. We're not children."  
  
Ron rises then, stiffly, and takes hold of her elbow, pulling her off to the side of the room.  
  
Assuming that a distance of mere feet would interfere with my hearing, he whispers, "Just leave it be, honey. It's not our business." His words should be a comfort, but his voice is cold. "Let's just head home, yeah?"  
  
He grabs their coats off the hook as she nods, muttering an unapologetic, "Sorry, Harry. I didn't mean to get on you."  
  
I just nod, words escaping me as I walk them to the door.  
  
Ron hangs back as Hermione heads to their flying car, waiting until she's out of earshot.  
  
As she goes I can't help but stifle a laugh; she still hates broomsticks and flooing gives her a headache.  
  
Besides that I think she takes comfort in the car, it reminds her of where she comes from, even if it does fly. And Ron. well, I really don't know about him. I think he just likes to make Hermione happy.  
  
When she's closed the door Ron turns back to me and says, "I'd hoped you'd grow out of this, Harry."  
  
That's it.  
  
That's all.  
  
And I have nothing to add beyond a mumbled, "Me too," as I close the door softly.  
  
Draco's still sitting on the swing in his back yard. 


End file.
